!!Story Time!!
**POV: Dev**
Venice had always felt like a painting—until now. Now it felt like a mirror, showing me what I didn't want to see.
Sahil and I stood in the shadow of an old, locked chapel hidden behind the San Lorenzo alley. The symbol etched on its rusted door matched the sigil we'd found in that encrypted folder from my father's old laptop.
"I don't want to believe it," I murmured, my voice low. "But every road leads back to him."
Sahil remained quiet, studying the lock, then glancing around the corner.
"We always thought your dad was cold, ambitious… but this?" he whispered. "This is something else."
I nodded.
Documents, timelines, surveillance patterns—every piece of the puzzle told us the same thing: he had been tracking our movements for months. But something didn't add up.
"I don't think he was working alone," I said, staring at the symbol again. "This feels too… manipulated. Like someone was pulling his strings."
Sahil frowned. "The way this is set up—it's like your father was the perfect puppet."
And just as he said it, my phone buzzed. A message from Ishika.
**We found something. Meet us. Urgent.**
---
**POV: Ishika**
The villa's hidden library wasn't visible to the naked eye. You had to press a certain brick behind the piano room. It had taken Gulafsha and me two hours and a near fall from a loose chandelier to figure that out.
"What *is* this place?" Gulafsha whispered as we stepped into the dim room, lit only by filtered sunlight through dusty glass panels.
"It's not just a library," I said. "It's a memory vault."
Lined across one wall were frames—photos, newspaper clippings, and letters. Most were of Aarya. Radhika's sister.
Only now… they were labeled with something chilling.
**Phase I - Subject: Radhika**
**Phase II - Observation Unit: Dev**
**Phase III - Termination Contingency**
I felt a shiver run down my spine. Gulafsha lifted a velvet-bound journal off the desk and flipped through it slowly.
"Whoever wrote this… they've been watching all of us for years."
She handed me a photograph—one of Radhika and Aarya as children, with a dark shadowy figure drawn behind them in pen. Underneath, someone had scrawled:
> "She's not dead. She never was."
My throat tightened.
We had to tell the others.
But just as we turned to leave, the door slammed shut behind us—and the room went dark.
---
**POV: Dev**
We rushed toward the coordinates Ishika had sent—an abandoned art museum overlooking the canal. Justin met us there, panic visible in his eyes.
"They're inside," he said. "I tried calling. No answer."
"What were they doing here?" Sahil asked, already trying the main door.
"Following a trail from one of Radhika's old book notes," Justin explained. "She once described this place in a chapter before it was even built. She dreamed it. But it exists."
Something cold settled into my bones.
We weren't dealing with ordinary threats anymore. This was personal. Psychological. Every move tied to memories—and planted illusions.
The mastermind wasn't just watching us now.
They were rewriting us.
---
Aarya P.O.V
*They always look for ghosts in the wrong places.*
I stood at the end of the hallway, silent as the shadows I had become used to living in. The flickering lights barely touched my face, but I didn't need light. Pain had already lit every corner of my soul.
Footsteps.
I could hear them before I saw them. Whispering. Nervous. Curious. Radhika's little protectors — always too loyal, too naïve.
I waited until they turned the corner.
Ishika, bold as ever. Gulafsha, careful but fierce. And Akanksha — quiet, observant, smarter than she lets on. They saw me, and for a moment, the world froze between us.
I didn't flinch.
"You finally made it," I said, voice calm. Flat. "Curiosity suits you all."
Their eyes widened, but they didn't run. Good. I hate when they run.
"Aarya?" Ishika breathed like she was trying to believe the impossible.
"I was beginning to wonder how long it would take Radhika's little friends to come knocking."
Gulafsha stepped forward, anger flaring in her voice. "You're her sister. Why are you doing this?"
*That word again—* sister.
I almost laughed. Instead, I let the bitterness speak.
"You think being a sister is about blood? About birthdays and rakhi and hugs? I *was* her sister — until the day I wasn't."
Akanksha's voice came next, gentle but full of judgment. "She was five. A child."
A child who cried for ice cream. Who begged me to take the longer way home. And I did.
That's all it took. One moment of giving in.
"One moment," I said aloud. "One second of sweetness, and my life turned bitter. I gave in. We walked through that alley. They grabbed me. She ran."
But even that wasn't the truth.
"She didn't escape," I corrected myself slowly. "She was taken too. But the universe loves her. Someone found her. Someone saved her. I screamed just as loud. No one came."
They said she was lucky.
I was cursed.
"They brought her home. Me? I was never reported missing. You know why? Because they were *ashamed*. Ashamed of what might have happened to me. So they chose silence. And Radhika became the child worth saving."
Gulafsha's eyes were glassy. "You were just a girl."
"I *was*," I snapped, heat rising. "And then I wasn't."
For a long time, I was just rage — living, breathing fury.
But then… someone found me. Not Dev's father — no. He was a pawn, a lost man looking for direction. Easy to bend. But there was another. Someone darker. Smarter. They taught me to turn my trauma into strategy. My wounds into weapons.
And I watched. *I watched Radhika shine.* Write books. Fall in love. Laugh. Live.
"She took everything from me," I said, my voice a blade. "So now I take it back. One piece at a time."
I looked at the girls. Their faces, torn between pity and fear. Good. They needed to feel both.
"Dev. Justin. Her friends. Her happiness. I'll peel it away layer by layer until she finally understands what I became."
"She didn't know—" Ishika began.
"She didn't *care*," I said. "And now, she'll care too much. Now she'll *feel*."
My voice dropped to a whisper, just for them.
"Tell her the ghost she left behind is writing her ending."
And without waiting for a reply, I turned.
Because I don't need to be heard anymore.
I need to be *felt*.
---
Justin P.O.V
I had been in enough high-pressure missions to know when the air shifts — when something *wrong* begins to creep in under the surface, silent and invisible like carbon monoxide.
And right now, something was choking me.
Radhika had been quiet. Too quiet.
We were back at the villa in Venice — the same place where just days ago, laughter filled the corridors, and the only worry was whether Sahil would burn the pasta. But now, every room felt colder. Every corner sharper.
She sat near the window, notebook in hand, but I could tell she wasn't writing. Her fingers moved, but her mind… her mind was elsewhere. Distant. Haunted.
I approached slowly, not wanting to spook her.
"You haven't touched your tea," I said, placing it next to her. Still warm. "That's two days in a row. You planning to break all your habits one by one?"
She gave a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Guess I'm changing."
"I don't like it," I said softly. "Not this kind of change."
There was a pause. The type that sits between two people when one is holding something back and the other is too scared to ask.
Finally, she looked at me. "Justin… do you think memories can lie?"
I blinked. "No. But people can bury them so deep, they start to forget what's real."
Her eyes filled with something I hadn't seen in her before — guilt. *Real, heavy guilt.*
She whispered, "I remembered something. About Aarya. About the day she disappeared."
My chest tightened. "You don't have to—"
"She didn't run," Radhika said, her voice cracking. "She was taken… and so was I. But I was the one they found. I didn't remember it until now. I thought she left me. But she didn't. *I* left her."
I sat beside her, the weight of her words crashing into me. "You didn't leave her, Radhika. You were five. A child."
"But I survived," she said bitterly. "And she didn't. She must've hated me for it. I'd hate me too."
My hand found hers, gripping it tightly.
"You don't get to carry that blame. Not alone. Not ever."
She didn't cry. She never did. But I felt her tremble.
"I think she's alive, Justin. And I think she's here."
I froze.
I knew something was off — the tampered tickets sent to Kartik and Akanksha, the missing logs in Dev's security network, the camera glitch near Radhika's room two nights ago.
"Aarya?" I asked, already fearing the answer.
Radhika nodded slowly. "If she's alive… she's angry. She's watching us. And she doesn't just hate me—she hates everyone I care about."
A chill ran down my spine.
"Then we'll watch her back," I said, my voice firmer now. "Together. She's not taking you. Or anyone else."
Radhika leaned into me, her head resting against my chest. For a moment, the world slowed. The fear didn't disappear, but it found a place to rest.
I held her tightly. Because I could feel the storm approaching. And if Aarya was the ghost from her past… then she was back now, not to haunt —
—but to *burn*.
---
Write P.O.V
The sun was dipping behind the Venetian skyline as Akanksha stepped out of the small café, her eyes scanning the square. Kartik stood near the fountain, phone pressed to his ear, his brows furrowed in quiet frustration.
She approached, her heels clicking on the cobblestone. "Any luck?" she asked, adjusting the strap of her satchel.
Kartik ended the call with a curt sigh. "No. Headquarters confirms—*they never sent us any tickets*. Neither did Justin. And the sender's identity? Masked. Rerouted through at least four countries."
Akanksha's stomach dropped. "So… someone wanted us *here*. But not for our safety."
Kartik looked at her sharply. "No. They wanted us involved. Someone's making moves around Radhika's circle… and we've been thrown into it."
She nodded grimly. "And not just thrown in. Manipulated. My editor told me the same—he didn't approve my Italy leave, and yet it shows 'granted' in the system. Digital forgery. Professional."
Kartik folded his arms. "This is deep. Whoever is pulling the strings isn't sloppy. They're careful. Powerful."
They began walking along the canal, their steps brisk, their tone shifting from casual to calculating.
Akanksha lowered her voice. "You know what this means, right? This isn't about some jealous sister or an old family feud. It's strategic. Almost... militant."
Kartik nodded. "This reeks of psychological warfare. Someone studied Radhika's life—her friends, her weaknesses, even her memories. They're not just trying to hurt her. They're trying to *unravel* her."
"Any suspects?" Akanksha asked.
Kartik hesitated. "One name keeps popping up. Dev's father."
She raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't he… out of the picture?"
"Retired from public life, yes. But not powerless. I dug through some of his past financials. Quiet donations to shell companies. One of them—*MedCore Italia*—has ties to missing person investigations in Southern Europe. Aarya could've been held by them."
Akanksha's voice was barely a whisper. "You think he helped her?"
"I think," Kartik said slowly, "he was *used*. Aarya might have saved herself—or was saved by someone else—and then twisted his grief, his power, for her own revenge."
Akanksha stopped walking.
"She's targeting Radhika's world," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "One by one. Using Dev's father as a pawn. And we've just landed on her chessboard."
Kartik looked at her, his eyes dark. "Then it's time we flipped the board."
They exchanged a long look.
Whatever had brought them here was bigger than they imagined. And it was only beginning.
---
Thank you